


Pieces of View

by JoAryn



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-02
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAryn/pseuds/JoAryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perspectives on the last few events of Counterpoint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of View

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EwigeStudentin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=EwigeStudentin).



> Written for Secret Santa 2009
> 
> Request:
> 
> A story with Janeway, The Doctor, Seven and Kashyk as the main characters. These are my favorite characters, so please no bashing of any of them. I prefer an evil, but intelligent and generous Kashyk. You don't have to have all these characters actively participating in the story, they just have to be an important part of it. For example, KJ, EMH and 7 could work together on a riddle that remained after Kashyk's departure; or Kashyk could report about these three to his superior after the end of his mission. You can pair these characters in any way, if you wish (lol). I prefer adventure/sci-fi with a hint of romance, but you are free to write whatever your muse wants, of course. 
> 
> AN: Prior to getting this request, I had never actually seen ‘Counterpoint’ in its entirety. I hope I was able to portray Kashyk in an ‘evil but intelligent and generous’ way.  
> Also, I don't own Star Trek: Voyager or any of the associated properties. I'm simply borrowing their characters for my own amusement. I make no money off this work.

Pieces of View  
By JoAryn  
   
   
PIECES OF VIEW  
   
   
“Captain Janeway, report to the ready room.” As Janeway crossed the bridge, she steeled herself for the performance ahead. The game of cat-and-mouse was coming to a head and there would be no more false pleasantries from the Devore Inspector. From this point on, there was only a winner and a loser in their deadly contest. She'd played to the best of her ability and knew that her crew had been flawless in their actions. She could only hope that it had been enough; that Kashyk's distraction had been complete and that his cohorts beyond the ship had been fooled by the refractive shielding B'Elanna and her team had worked through the night to apply to the Federation shuttles.  
   
She resisted the urge to glance back at her crew as she stepped down to her ready room. She felt their comforting presence at her back but would have liked the reassurance of seeing them calmly standing their posts. The doors slid open and she strode into the room with her head high. She would never let Kashyk or his cronies see her flinch. She accepted the proffered cup of coffee without comment and ignored the inspector's order of a latte macchiato. She'd been surprised the first time he'd ordered a coffee for himself but the flare of pleasure she'd seen in his eyes at her reaction was enough to ensure it never happened again. It hadn't stopped her from nearly laughing at the man when he'd tried and obviously been disgusted by a caramel frappé though.  
   
She knew the moment that Kashyk had left Voyager to return to the Imperium ships that he had no intention of honoring their agreement. It hadn't stopped her from hoping that just possibly Starfleet and the Federation's ideals might have shown the Inspector the opportunity of a different path. As a result, it wasn't particular difficult to school her features into a mask of defeat as the last act of their all too real play unfolded. She feigned shock at his betrayal when he immediately relayed the former location of the Brenari refugees to Prax but she had not needed her acting skills for the pain. She couldn't deny that the Devore Inspector, with his darkly handsome features was attractive. Had she thought for a moment that he might be sincere in his request for asylum or that his stay on Voyager had actually changed him, things between them might have been much different.  
   
She felt a frisson of fear as they emerged from her Ready Room back onto the bridge and she realized it was entirely manned by Devore.  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from demanding to know what they had done with her crew.  Instead she sat quietly in Chakotay’s chair as Kashyk claimed her own.  She listened as Kashyk ordered his minions to fire torpedoes toward the false wormhole.  Almost everything was proceeding according to plan but she couldn’t help wondering where her bridge crew had been taken.  Were they locked in the observation lounge or could they have been removed from the ship altogether?  Perhaps Kashyk had planned to use them as hostages if she hadn’t been forthcoming with the information he thought he needed.   
   
\--------------------  
   
Seven watched impassively as the Devore swarmed into the cargo bay. The Doctor had impressed upon her that she should act exactly as she had each and every other time the Devore had descended upon the ship and performed their inspections. To her knowledge, her behavior had not changed regardless of whether the Devore were present or not, but her ocular implant had registered the increase in respiration and heart-rate of the rest of the crew. The Brenari were no longer aboard, having left the ship in the modified shuttle pods sometime earlier so she saw no reason for anxiety at this point. However, if the Doctor felt it was important, she would do her best to comply with his wishes.  
   
Several Devore had approached the transporter controls and were scanning them. She noted that they made no attempt to conceal their efforts. It was reasonable, the time for deception had passed on both sides. The doors to the cargo bay slid open behind her and Crewman Holder gasped. She glanced at the man, annoyed that he was unable to control himself. His expression however, made her turn to see who had entered. Two Devore held a bloodied Ensign Vorik between them, their weapons pressed into his ribs. The three telepathic members of Voyager's crew had not been hidden again after the Brenari had left the ship.  
   
It had been Captain Janeway's opinion that the Devore might 'shoot first and ask questions later' if the three had rematerialized from a search of the transporter buffers. Seven felt that having the crew members appear would reduce the likelihood that the Devore would look for the Brenari but Janeway felt that the risk to Tuvok, Vorik and Jurot was too high. Instead, they had hidden in plain sight among the rest of crew in hopes that the Devore were so intent on following the clues to the transporters that they would not notice three more faces in the corridors. Seven allowed a slight frown to mar her features. Ensign Vorik at least, had not managed to disappear in the other 140 crew.  
   
Three Devore hovered over the transporter console while several others worked on the pattern enhancers. Although the settings had been scrambled since the last time they were used, the Devore did not seem to be having much difficulty in synchronizing the devices. They would be ready to try to rematerialize the stored patterns in a few seconds. Although the Brenari had left Voyager more than an hour earlier, they had still been some distance from the calculated position of the wormhole. If the Devore discovered that the telepaths were gone too soon, they might still have time to intercept the shuttles.  
   
Seven glanced at the transporter console and the Devore clustered around it. There were far too many of them for her to be able to access the controls and delay their work without being observed. She could trigger the fire containment system from a panel near the door but the Devore guard would undoubtedly notice. She started to reach for her comm badge but then dropped her hand when the doors opened again, admitting more armed Devore and most of the bridge crew.  
   
The Inspector's second, Prax, followed them in. He scanned the room quickly then jerked his head at the guard just inside the door. The man nodded and Seven turned sharply as something prodded her in the ribs. Another of the Devore who had been searching the cargo bay scowled and jammed the barrel of his weapon into her back again with purpose. She stumbled slightly before complying with the unspoken demand and moved toward the bridge crew. Two other Devore brought over crewmen Holder and Dalby.  
   
The Devore crew ran another scan on the enhancers, then nodded to Prax who was now standing by the transporter console. Another Devore tapped in a few commands and the whine of the transporter filled the bay. Several shimmering columns appeared in the open space between the pattern enhancers. For a few brief moments, nothing seemed to happen, then the beams began to coalesce into solid forms. Within seconds, ten cargo containers stood solidly in the center of the bay. The senior inspector's voice barked over the comm system as Prax tore the lid off the first container. His sound of disgust clearly communicated to everyone present that a barrel full of leola root and other vegetables was not what he was looking for.  
   
The perturbed Prax looked around the cargo bay and spotted the two Devore holding Vorik. From there his cold eyes slid to the bridge crew before returning to the unfortunate Vulcan engineer. “Kill him and the dark one,” he ordered venomously as he indicated Commander Tuvok in the group from the bridge. The two guards forced Ensign Vorik forward with little difficulty but they faced more opposition in separating Tuvok from the rest of the bridge crew. Commander Chakotay and Ensigns Paris and Kim moved to block the guards from the front and Seven found herself positioned behind Tuvok. Having perceived that the crew's behavior was no longer under scrutiny, she allowed her elbow to slam into chin of a Devore guard.  
   
The fight was short. The Devore out-numbered the crew and they soon had Tuvok and Vorik isolated. The non-telepathic crew who had tried to help the Vulcans had been forced to their knees in a circle of armed guards. Commander Chakotay's left eye was swollen shut, blood streamed from his nose and the way he was holding himself indicated at least one broken rib. Ensign Paris sported dual black eyes along with a split lip. Even Seven had not escaped unscathed as she protected her unnaturally twisted right arm with her left. Ensign Kim's nose was certainly broken and blood trickled from his hairline. She noticed that his pupils were unevenly dilated and diagnosed a likely concussion.  
   
“Down on your knees,” Prax stalked around the two Vulcans. Neither moved to obey immediately and Prax delivered a swift, violent blow to Tuvok's back with the butt of the nearest guards rifle. Once they were both on their knees, he withdrew a pistol phaser from his belt. “Filthy telepath,” he took aim and fired. Vorik fell to the deck, his body twitching slightly. Seven thought that she detected a stiffening in Tuvok's spine despite his race's vaunted emotional control. Prax raised his weapon again, placing it against the back of Tuvok's head. Seven was surprised to find herself looking at her broken wrist and avoiding the specter of the tactical officer's death.  
   
Rather than the sound of weapon's fire, however, the next sound was of the door to the cargo bay opening and the hurried tread of two Devore guards. They conferred briefly with Prax who reacted by slamming the butt of his pistol into the side of Tuvok's head before striding swiftly from the bay, taking the guards with him.  
   
The doors had no sooner slid shut behind the departing Devore than those of the crew left uninjured were jumping to help those less fortunate. Dalby had rolled Tuvok onto his back and was checking his vitals. Chakotay slapped his comm-badge as he struggled to his feet, helped by an arm from Holder. “Chakotay to the Doctor. Medical emergency in Cargo Bay two.” Paris was kneeling by Vorik, hands green with the younger Vulcan’s blood.  
 

\-----------------  
   
The EMH barely glanced up as the doors to his sickbay opened. Ensign Vorik and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok were already in his care having been transported directly, but the rest of the group form the cargo bay had made their way by more conventional means. He didn't have time for social niceties if he was going to save the Vulcan engineer. The fact that his only regular medic was also among the wounded did not make him any more inclined to be compassionate. “Mr. Paris, if you would remove the raccoon make up, I could use your assistance.” The steady beeps from a cortical monitor assured him that Tuvok was stable for the time being. He concentrated instead on the neural probe in his hand. The surgical bed was going to need rather more cleaning than usual. He'd had to resort to positively medieval procedures and excised part of Vorik's skull to relieve the intracranial pressure.

He moved smoothly from working alone to snapping orders at the pilot-cum-medic as he focused on preserving the life of his patient. He regenerated what tissue he could and focused on making sure that blood was flowing properly to the rest of the neural matter. Knowing the Devore's feelings toward telepaths, he suspected that the weapon was supposed to have destroyed the telepathic cortex if not kill the individual but the designer hadn't taken Vulcan physiology into account. The copper content of Vulcan blood had the unexpected side effect of deflecting and distributing the weapon's energy throughout the body. Vorik would be in for extensive physiotherapy but his brain would be largely unharmed once they could get the swelling under control. 

Over an hour later, he was satisfied that the swelling had stopped. He would keep an eye on his patient for the next 48 hours, but he was confident that he'd maintained the flow of blood through the brain and that there would be a minimum of lasting damage. He would leave the skull breached for the next few hours then graft the trepanned disk of bone back into place once the swelling had been sufficiently reduced. In the mean time, he would keep the piece of cranium alive in a nutrient bath. He could have just regenerated the osseous matter on either side of the fissure but it would take take time and leave the patient open to further injury. He set the force fields on the bed to hold Vorik immobilized and looked around. The rest of the cargo bay contingent was still present and the captain had arrived sometime in the interim.

Noting that none of them was aware he had completed his work on Mr. Vorik, he took the opportunity to check the readings over Tuvok's bio bed and hummed approvingly. Although he often felt that Mr. Paris' dedication to his duties in sickbay was rather lacking, the lieutenant always managed to perform above standard in a crisis; the tactical officer was resting comfortably in an only slightly unnatural sleep and would awake in the morning with nothing more serious than a slight headache. Feigning entering data into a PADD (being that he was a computer program, all of his observations were automatically entered into the medical database without need of manual input), he covertly observed the rest of the company. Dalby was repairing the broken skin on Ensign Kim's temple, crewman Holder was running a dermal regenerator over the last vestiges of Paris' ocular contusions, the Captain and Commander Chakotay were conferring quietly as she treated his broken ribs and a hapless science office was attempting to run an osteo-regenerator Seven's arm while the former drone protested that the process was inefficient and that her nanoprobes would be more than sufficient to repair the damage. He decided to intervene before Seven decided that remaining in sickbay was irrelevant and tried to leave. “If I may, Ensign?” He deftly plucked the medical instrument from the woman's unprotesting hand. “I'm sure you nanoprobes are up to the task, Seven, but this will help speed the process.”

He was gratified to see the contempt drop from her expression. “That is acceptable.” She adjusted her arm so that it was more accessible and he gave her a pleasant smile. The rest of the crew might think the ex-Borg abrasive and cold but the EMH was aware that he had been perceived in a similar light early in their voyage and was sure that Seven's demeanor would improve as she regained her humanity. 

 

Kashyk pulled up the warship's aft sensor display on his private terminal as the vessel settled into formation with the other warship and prepared to warp back toward the Devore homeworld. With a single finger he traced the sleek lines of the silvery ship shrinking slowly on the screen. Voyager was a prize that any man would covet. Had he brought her home, he would have been praised and honored by his people but the personal value to him would have been infinitely greater. He stroked his long fingers possessively over a row of data chips nestled carefully in the lining of a discreet box. They contained the specifications for a variety of things he'd seen on the gaharay ship. 

There was a brief flash on the display and he knew the Federation ship had gone to warp, traveling the opposite direction and out of Devore space. He took a long, slow sip of his drink as he leaned back in his chair. Although the rest of his small office was rather plainly appointed, he'd managed to call in a few favors and the chair had been constructed to his exacting specifications. It reminded him of the chair in Janeway's Ready Room – the first time he'd taken her seat, he'd been surprised at how much comfort the vaunted Federation allowed their on-duty personnel. After that first time, he'd come to anticipate his visits to the ship and the opportunity to sample its delights. 

He tapped one of the data chips fondly and then closed the lid. He would replace this chair he thought. He wouldn't be able to do it immediately – he, Prax and everyone involved would be under increased scrutiny for a while. Although the failure of the mission could be concealed, no amount of fabrication could make it appear a great success. Another two good missions perhaps and he'd have regained enough prestige to get a replica of Janeway's chair for his office. Within a year, he might even be able to transform this office into a facsimile of her entire ready room.

Despite her gaharay appearance, Captain Janeway was very attractive and he'd wanted her. He'd had a few fantasies of enjoying her in her ready room, even in her very own chair. And, although he doubted the woman would ever admit it, he knew that in some way she'd desired him, too. He drew a slow breath, imagining her scent in his office. He might have won their little game had she given in to her desires . . . Or perhaps not. She didn't seem like a woman likely to get swept away by her passions. That, along with the little niceties he'd taken from Voyager provided him with a bit of comfort in the face of his failure. 

The only thing lacking would be coffee. He glanced at his mug and sneered in disgust. Until he'd encountered Janeway's coveted 'coffee', he'd rather enjoyed klasset but compared to the Terran beverage, the Devore delicacy was bland and flavorless. The Devore had technology similar to the Federation's replicators but it would require more programming skill than he possessed to get one to dispense coffee. He'd included the chemical structure on one of the data chips but knew that just reassembling the elemental building blocks in the right order wouldn't necessarily result in a palatable likeness. Perhaps he'd hire a programmer to work on the problem. That could probably be done sooner than he could get the new chair; recreating a simple foreign substance was a common enough procedure as long as it wasn't known to be a comestible. 

Along with the formula for the plain, 'black' coffee that Janeway had preferred, he'd also included information on several related beverages. The first time he'd taken a cup along with Janeway, she'd seemed discomfited and he'd intended to play on that but she'd regained her equilibrium quickly. On subsequent visits, he'd made use of the many varieties of coffee-based drinks listed in Voyager's computer. He'd anticipated enjoying her reactions as he ordered an espresso or a raktajino. Unfortunately, that first cup seemed an aberration. Every successive order had elicited no response from Janeway other than the occasional flicker of amusement. His fist clenched in memory of the frustration and the fragile cup traditionally used to serve klassat shattered. He stared at the empty starfield of the aft sensor display as blood dripped from his hand to stain the carpet.  
 

\---------------------

   
Several hundred light years away, Captain Janeway sat in the dim light of the mess hall during Gamma shift. Her fingers were wrapped around her own mug of coffee, black of course, as she gazed out the view ports at the on-rushing stars. Her lips curved into a small half smile and her eyes slipped closed at the soft scrape of a boot on carpet. “Is this seat taken?” She shook her head wordlessly. She listed the rustle of fabric as her first officer settled himself on the sofa beside her. Her right hand dropped from her coffee mug and came to rest atop his left on the cushion between them. The stars continued to streak by as Voyager sped away from Devore space and her two commanding officers sat in the silence of the deep night of the starship.  
   
El Fin


End file.
